


The End

by Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-03
Updated: 2011-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanging on and letting go.  End-of-tour fic, set after the last Glam Nation show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

It's so late it's early, so late Tommy's headed toward sober again. His bed is sounding real good, but he can't go without one more hug from everyone, one more goodbye. He finds them here and there, exchanges bittersweet smiles with the ones who are awake, gives the ones who are asleep a gentle cuddle. He doesn't find Adam or Monte anywhere.

A couple minutes of questioning gives him the answer – someone saw them headed back toward the theater a little while ago. Tommy zips up his jacket, shoves his hands in his pockets, and follows in the same direction. It's LA, and it's barely chilly, but he hasn't quite been able to shake the deep cold of Norway and Finland and England, like it's sunk so deep in his bones he can't get warm again.

The theater is locked, but there's a guy in the lobby sweeping the floor, and he catches Tommy's eye and lets him in without a word. Tommy makes his way around to the stage entrance, moving on instinct. He knows Adam, _knows_ him, and maybe if he'd taken the time to think deep enough about it he would have realized this is where Adam's been heading all night, back here, one last turn on the stage.

He peeps out from backstage and sees Monte and Adam sitting on the edge of the stage, feet dangling over, braced back on outstretched hands. Monte's speaking, but softly, too softly for Tommy to make out the words. He can't see their faces, but Adam's stillness, Monte's quietness, the heaviness of the air...it sobers him even quicker than the cool air outside.

He almost doesn't want to intrude, but Adam's always been good at sensing people – Adam tried to explain it to him once, but it was something to do with auras and Tommy feels like he probably tuned out about halfway through. Adam turns and looks over his shoulder, right at Tommy on the first go, direct and intense, and it would be totally creepy if it was anyone else, but it's not, and instead it's good, acceptance into the smallest of inner circles.

Tommy crosses the stages, the heels of his boots clicking too-loud on the scuffed surface. Monte's on Adam's right, so he sits to the left. He smiles to himself as he realizes this is exactly how they're arranged for the show – _were_ arranged for the show – and he wonders if this is how they'll stand around each other for the rest of their lives, out of sheer habit, like couples who always sleep on the same side of the bed.

Monte's gone quiet, and Adam's not talking, and Tommy's never been one to start a conversation. They sit in silence for a long time, staring out into the empty theater. Tommy can't help the sorrow when it starts to seep back in, but it's bearable, almost nice, even, because it was a good thing, a great thing – the best thing – and now it's over. But as he sneaks a glance at Adam out of the corner of his eye, Tommy realizes he's not as sad as he thought he would be. He's not worried about the future like he thought he might be. He's just...not. He doesn't need to be.

Eventually, Monte shoves himself to his feet, puts a strong hand on each of their shoulders in a wordless goodbye, and heads to the door. Tommy knows he's going home, back to the family that's waiting for him, and that's good, that's right.

It's right, too, that it's down to just him and just Adam, here alone on the darkened stage at the end of it all. They've all played their parts, all of them, but for Tommy, this has been the center of it, this mad genius sitting next to him with a complex look on his face. He finds himself wishing they'd had more time together, which is insane, because they just spent six months traveling the world together...only they didn't, really, because Adam's famous and busy and so often not a part of “the band,” and Tommy regrets not making more of an effort, wishes he'd sacrificed a few more mornings of sleeping in, a few more drinks with the guys, because time with Adam is always awesome and yeah, he's not worried about future employment or anything, but Adam has a million friends and a crazy career and probably had next to no time even _before_ he was famous. Now...

But he doesn't get to finish that thought, because Adam is looking at him, and when Adam looks, Tommy looks back.

Adam starts to speak a couple times, but he ends up just ducking his head and laughing softly. Finally, he looks back up at Tommy and says, “I can't think of anything to say that doesn't sound totally cliché.”

Tommy laughs with him and says, “Yeah.”

“It's just,” Adam starts again, “it never felt like it would end, you know? There were days when I wanted it to go on forever and days when it couldn't end fast enough, but it never really sunk in that it _would,_ whether I wanted it to or not.”

Tommy looks down into his lap, fidgets with his hands, the fingers running over and over each other. “I can't decide if I want to keep my costume forever or burn it,” he admits, and Adam laughs.

“Exactly.”

Silence again, but it's a charged silence, holding its breath and waiting to be broken again.

“I keep thinking about last things. Last song. Last dance. Last note,” Adam says.

“Last kiss,” Tommy murmurs, and immediately can't believe he said that out loud. He must not be as sober as he thought.

Adam's looking at him again, maybe sharp and piercing, maybe amused, maybe just curious. Tommy can't bring himself to look up and find out. “Yeah. That too,” Adam says.

Tommy laughs a little, trying to tread water, keep to the surface. “Until next tour, anyway.”

“I guess. We don't have to, you know...” Adam says, and Tommy is startled enough to shake the hair out of his eyes and look up to meet Adam's gaze.

“I know! But it's fun, right? It's cool to have in the show.”

Adam nods. “Yeah, it is...but that's not what I meant.”

“Um...what?”

“I meant...” Adam pauses. Licks his lips. Tommy can see it in his eyes when he makes the decision, and he gets a sense of what Adam's going to say the instant before he says it. “We don't have to wait until the next tour, if you don't want. Tonight doesn't have to be the last.”

There's a little bit of a sinking feeling deep inside Tommy, and he wishes – not for the first time – that he could be different, that he could force himself to be what Adam wants him to be, not just on stage, but all the time. His voice is full of regret when he speaks.

“Adam...”

“I know. And it's ok. Really, it is. I'm not wasting away pining over you, I promise. But...hugs feel good. Backrubs feel good. Friends do those things. We could...”

The uncertainty doesn't quite disappear, but it shifts, changes, feels more like something lifting Tommy up than dragging him down. He finds himself leaning closer to Adam without realizing he's doing it, and it's only in this moment, with a chance to stave off just this one of many endings tonight, that he lets himself feel how much he wants to give in.

They've never done this off stage, never once during the whole long year, not more than the friendly pecks that they all gave each other when they were feeling affectionate. Tommy's heart is beating fast like it hasn't in a long, long time, and he feels like this should be complicated, like he should be coming up with reasons why this is a bad idea.

Instead, it's the easiest thing in the world to lean into Adam's space and let himself be kissed.

It's long, slow, unaffected by the constraints of time, of propriety, of the rest of the world looking in. It feels good, like it always has, not sexual, really, but _good,_ so easy to lose himself in, and he thinks that he could do this for hours. Days.

It's quiet when the kiss ends, so quiet Tommy can hear the barely-there sound of their lips pulling gently apart. Adam's looking at him, yes, but in a hazy, sleepy way. His voice is the same when he speaks, low and lazy.

“Yeah?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

Tommy nods and smiles, small and secret. “Yeah.”

He ends up straddling Adam's lap, only because he wants to be closer, and it's sheer luck that it lines him up with Adam's lips exactly right. The kisses get deeper, harder, and hands grip into clothes and skin and hair, but it's not each other they're clutching at, it's all of it, the whole mad experience, not ready to let go yet, or maybe ever.

They're breathing each other's air, lips just at the edge of brushing, when Adam says, “Can we keep this? This, just this?”

Tommy wraps himself around Adam and nods into the warmth of his neck, and Adam's arms go around Tommy's back and hold him tight, and finally, finally, it feels like coming to rest. Like peace.


End file.
